


The Last Will, Testament and Other Stuff of Detective Jacob Peralta

by whyamisoemotional



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamisoemotional/pseuds/whyamisoemotional
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jake makes a video right after Hoytzman makes his, just to say goodbye. And a few more things, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Family Ties and Romantic-Stylezes {Respectively, Of Course}

**Author's Note:**

> Idea credits to tumblr user amysntiagos and the anon that inspired her-- love it, you two <3

"I have done truly horrible things to a truly decent man, which is why I have decided to take my own life," Jake deadpanned. Honestly, whoever believed this 'confession' didn't  _deserve_ to be a detective. 

A frown crossed his face as he realized what he just said. "Wait, I didn't decide that."

"Spoiler alert!" Hoytzman grinned, a crazy grin that-- although he would never admit it-- made Jake feel sick to his stomach.

And the fact that he was probably going to, you know, _die_ in not too long didn't help.

Memories started surfacing, which was weird, because your life wasn't supposed to flash before your eyes until your actual death, right? 

_"Fine then," he had snapped, not thirty minutes earlier. "If you don't want my help, you won't get it."_

_"Dude--" Rosa didn't stop scowling as he slammed the door shut, but there was something like worry or regret in that mostly-unreadable gaze._

_"Just let us drive you home." Amy hadn't looked amused whatsoever, which was kind of disappointing, seeing as she usually found whatever he did cute and funny._

_That did it. If they weren't even going to tell him he was hilarious and that he should get back in the car, he was leaving._

_"I'm even deleting your contact numbers from my phone!" He threatened._ {He didn't, actually.}

_"Jake..."  
_

_"Seeya never!" He had hoped they would force him to get in, then drive him with them to Rikers so they could all interview some convicts, but Amy just said fine and drove away._

"Alright, Peralta, time to send this into your precinct." Hoytzman's voice snapped him out of his dramatic flashback and he remembered another thing you were supposed to do before you died-- write your will. Which he'd never done, having expected to die in a cool explosion {later with Charles committing suicide at his funeral out of respect, of course}.

"Wait, Hoytzman. Just one more thing."

"What do you want, Jake?" The ex-lawyer whined. "I'm sick of dealing with you, I'm gonna go get some cocaine."

"No, wait!" Jake would have held up a hand, were said hands not tied behind his back. "I just want to add something to the video. Just to... say goodbye." After a moment, Hoytzman shrugged and pointed the camera back at him.

"Make 'em cry, Peralta," he encouraged, then retreated to a corner of the ice-cream truck and snorted some coke. Jake took a deep breath and looked at the camera, suddenly at a loss for words.

"So, I'm about to die," he started, then snorted with laughter despite himself. "In the words of Geoffrey Hoytzman, "spoiler alert," especially if you haven't watched the first video.

"Okay, so I never wrote a will and I feel like I should leave my belongings to people, so here we go. To Rosa, I leave you nothing." He laughed, remembering Gina's sincerity as she said the line. "I'm kidding. I leave you all my leather belongings as well as the diary I kept for three days while we were in the Academy." He paused, feeling like he should say something more. "I'm glad you were there with me," he settled on. "Seriously. You're like a really mean, really terrifying older sister, even though you're actually younger. And damnit, Diaz, I know you hate apologies, but I'm sorry for being such a jackass earlier today. If I could do it over again, I'd do it better. A thousand push-ups."

Jake had to blink back some tears, grimacing. {He was still uncomfortable with emotions, even when so many of them were swirling somewhere inside}.

"To Gina, I leave you all the old records we used to listen to, as well as the smoke machine you gave me on my fourteenth birthday. Oh, and you should probably keep the dance uniform you gave me from when you tried to get me to join Floorgasm, and please make sure I'm not buried in that thing."

 _Buried._ The word sent a shiver down his spine, so much so that he could feel the chair's legs chattering against the floor.  _Buried buried buried beneath the ground._

He shoved the thought away. There would be time to ponder his death once this was over with.

"You're like the perfect family member I never had," he continued. "Sort of like... my dad. Wait, no, you're a girl, you can't be my replacement dad. Oh, whatever. What I mean is, I wouldn't have chosen any other best friend."

"To Charles, I leave you all the cookbooks I bought to impress Sophia. You were amazing at helping me get over her, buddy. And I can't believe I'm saying this, especially after all our planning, but you shouldn't commit suicide at my funeral. One day you're gonna find a girl and she's gonna stay-- and she'll be right to stay. She'll be  _lucky_ to stay. However much I made fun of you all these years, you're a great guy, the best, and you're like a brother to me."

The family references were starting to feel redundant, but they felt meaningful, too. Like he could have real relatives standing around his coffin instead of the broken pieces of a family that had fallen apart.

 _Coffin._ His  _coffin._ _A coffin with his dead body inside._

The shakes got worse. He had to look away from the camera a moment as he bit his lip and closed his eyes, building a last-ditch effort at a tidal wall against the wave of fear that threatened to swallow him whole.

"Terry." He'd almost forgotten the mama hen of the squad, and he felt awful. "I leave you the parenting book I bought in preparation for being the godfather to Cagney and Lacey. I--" His voice broke a little. "I was really looking forward to them getting to know me. You know, being cool uncle Jake. And I was really looking forward to spending more time with you, Sarge. We're friend-friends, right?" He had to take a breath. "You're my friend-friend, anyway. One of my best friend-friends, and you always will be."

"Captain." The words were clumsy in his mouth now, but he had to finish this. "I leave you my badge and gun, since you already have them. You're a way better Captain than my dad. A way better dad than my dad, actually, which really says something about you both, huh? Anyway. Tell Kev I love him too. And that I'm sorry about the orange soda I spilled on the couch the day you were lightly stabbed." He smiled at the memory despite himself.

"And Amy." He'd almost forgotten about her. Until he said the word  _love,_ that is. "I leave you all my unfinished cases. I know you'll solve them fast. And my desk, too, since you always begged for a chance to organize it. And the picture of us that's on that desk, from the day we beat The Vulture and you looked like that one demon dog. And the fake ring we used when we went undercover on our worst date ever. I still have it, it's right behind the picture. I know because I can't stop checking. Or, couldn't stop checking."

The past tense really bothered him, but he knew Santiago would have been on him for his grammar if she were by his side.

He knew what he had to say next.

"And look, Ames, I don't... I don't wanna be a jerk. But we both know what's going to happen, and I'd be pretty pissed at myself if I never said how I really felt. How I really still feel, right at this moment while I'm recording. I really, really, really wish something had happened between us. Romantic-stylez. Stylez with a z, for the record. I never really stopped liking you." He considered it for a moment;  _like_ seemed too petty a word for all this... this  _feeling._ This  _care._ This string of fate that, however thin, refused to disconnect he and Amy Santiago. "Loving you," he corrected on impulse. "Sorry. But it's the truth."

He looked over at Hoytzman, who was muttering something to himself about his wife. There was still time.

"Now I guess we just wait," he ended, his voice breathy and bitter. "Just wait for me to die." He choked on the last word, because now death wasn't some far-off thing that would probably eventually happen, it was  _real_ and it was coming towards him and there was no escape because death was  _real real real and soon soon soon too soon._

A  _beep_ sounded as the video camera ran out of battery just in time. Now there would be nothing more to remember him by.

He didn't notice the tears welling up in his squeezed-shut-tight eyes until they snapped open at a rapping on the ice-cream truck's side.

"You open?" A voice called, and Hoytzman dragged himself up off the floor.

Stalling time. It was just stalling time before he took his gun and kil--

"Hello there, I--  _agh!_ " Sophia's former boss cried out as he was thrown out of the truck by a pair of pale hands. Pale hands that had connected to wrists covered by black leather. And a pale face framed by curly black hair and a frown practically drawn on as the person opened the ice-cream truck door.

He'd never been so happy to see Rosa in his life.

"Thank God," she whispered, probably thinking Jake couldn't hear. Then she cleared her throat. "You owe me," she growled in her usual fashion. "Took a long-ass time to find you, Peralta."

"Geoffrey Hoytzman, you are under arrest!" A smile spread across Jake's face as Amy's clear, powerful voice rang through the air, saying what she said best. 

He was so caught up in how  _alive_ he was how  _good_ it felt to settle in the car with his friends and breathe fresh air and have time stretch ahead of him for years and years

so caught up in the glory of it all

that he barely noticed when they grabbed the video camera on their way back to the precinct.

* * *

 

_Part II coming soon!_

 


	2. Home Movies and Finallys {Not Necessarily Unrelated}

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything Jake does is spectacular. It's a curse. But, as he soon finds out, his partner, friend, and maybe more-- that means Amy Santiago, for the slow kids-- can be pretty spectacular herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I am SO sorry it took this long to update. I feel awful about it-- but instead of using my return to AO3 to make excuses, I'll just give you what you want. Enjoy the chapter! :)  
> 

The Nine-Nine might as well have thrown a party.

As soon as Jake got back, Boyle rocketed out of the Captain's office, where Holt had been talking to him, and let out a shriek that rivaled the volume of a cheerleading squad. Not knowing what exactly he was cheering for, but assuming it was something important, the rest of the squad joined in, and Jake was welcomed home like a hero.

"Wow, Jakey, you really hit it well with this one!" Charles exclaimed after Jake told the story. Normally, Jake would have pointed out that 'hitting it well' was sort of sexual, then accepted the praise with a cocky grin. It looked to be about what Rosa and Amy expected; they stood behind their fellow detective silently, arms crossed. But they deserved  _some_ kind of thank-you.

He wasn't going to leave out the pointing-out-that-Charles-accidentally-said-something-sexual bit, though. Not this time.

"Alright, first of all, Charles, really? I  _hit it well_? Might wanna think that one through. Also... I didn't really do anything. Diaz and Santiago did the heavy lifting today. I just stepped in as Hoytzman's personal movie star." He threw a smile back at the two, and they returned it. Well, Amy did, anyway. Rosa just sort of nodded, which Jake supposed would have to do as far as displays of gratefulness.

"Hey, speaking of, did you bring back that video, by any chance?" Terry chimed in. Jake froze.  _Had they?_ He half-hoped that they did and half-prayed that they didn't.

His prayers came true; moments later, Amy pulled a video camera out of her bag.

"Yeah, we've got the camera right here, so we can just plug it in and load it up." Jake swallowed hard.

"Great," he muttered. Nobody realized it was sarcasm. In fact, everybody seemed strangely eager to see what was on the tape-- even the Captain walked over, eyebrows slightly raised, to see what the commotion was all about.

"What's going on here, detectives?" He asked. "I know you're glad that Peralta has returned, but you all have work to do."

"Jake made a video while Hoytzman had him in captivity," Rosa told him. "Apparently, he did a last will and testament kinda thing, and we wanna watch." Jake forced a grin, but it felt awkward, like somebody had stuck it onto his face and he couldn't peel it off.

In slow motion, everybody crowded around Amy's desk. Of course it was Amy's desk. _How perfect._

She got up to go get a proper cord from Savant, because, according to Rosa,  _there's no way your fancy-ass equipment is gonna hook up to this stupid old thing, Santiago._ Almost on instinct, Jake plopped down into her chair, and she whirled around as he called out her name to boast.

"Peralta!" She scolded, "Get  _out_ of my chair, and get out of it  _now!_ " 

"Hm," is all he responded, "Your butt's really warm. This is nice." At that point, Amy gave up, rolling her eyes before going to find the cord.

When she got back, he still didn't leave her chair, and for a second it looked like she was going to sit on his lap. Then she settled for standing beside the chair and just leaning forward to set things up.

He wasn't  _disappointed,_ exactly.

Then every other emotion was washed away as the screen flickered to life and Jake's face popped up onto the screen. Every other emotion other than  _God, he was so nervous._ He couldn't bear to let the others finish watching the video, but he couldn't stop them, either.  _  
_

The detectives snickered and gasped during the confessions, and Jake almost lost himself, having gotten so caught up in making snarky little comments and laughing and just  _being part of the Nine-Nine._

But all too soon, it came time for the last will, testament, and... other stuff. A hush fell over the squad.

After Rosa's bit, he was awarded a punch in the shoulder, and a  _way to be sentimental, dummy_ ; from Gina, he earned a satisfactory  _awwwww_ ; from Charles, a forced hug, which he actually returned for once; from Terry, a couple tears in his eyes; from Holt, the ghost of a smile and a brief hand on his shoulder.

And then it was time for Amy's part. He wanted to stay and watch the whole thing, in the way that you couldn't look away from a car crash. He almost did. But as soon as he heard his own broken voice say  _Ames,_ as soon as he heard his partner suck in a breath-- he got up and he ran. Before he knew it, he was in the interrogation room, looking through the mirrored glass at the empty table, head resting against the cold surface. He was breathing so hard he was sure the whole precinct could hear it. Minutes ticked by slowly, like honey dripping through time, and yet they were still going by too fast. Each passing second laughed at him, taunting, reminding him that after this, everything between him and Amy would be over, the door of opportunity slammed shut.

The door to the interrogation room opened.

"You know," Amy said casually, "You should actually write your will. You can't leave everything 'till you die." Her voice held weight on the last sentence, weight he didn't dare question.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" Jake managed by way of reply. He didn't turn around.

"You tell me." When Jake didn't say anything, Amy spoke up again. " _You tell me, Peralta._ " Nothing, still. "Jake." There was something pleading in her tone. "Look at me. Please."

Slowly, he did. She took a step forward.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison, and then despite everything, they laughed. Their laughs together, Jake noted, sounded more natural than when they laughed alone.  _Funny, that._

"You're sorry?" He asked incredulously. "What for?"

"For holding back," she answered simply. "I've always known..." She took a deep breath, as if she wasn't ready to say the words. 

Since she was Amy Santiago, she pushed on anyway.

"I've always known how you felt about me. Well, except when you were with Sophia. But after you broke up, I saw you start looking at me again. I started getting butterflies whenever you did. I've always known you liked me-- sorry,  _loved_ me, I guess-- and I've always..." There was something like apprehension in her eyes, and Jake knew she didn't want to keep talking.

He didn't let her. Slowly, carefully, he pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face and pressed his lips to hers. She didn't move, at first, and for half a second, a deep pit of fear opened in Jake's stomach. He was sure he'd done the wrong thing, gone and messed it all up for good, and  _damn it all,_ he was such an _idiot,_ and oh, wait, nevermind, she was kissing him back.

 _She was kissing him back._  She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, and everything was different, but everything was the same. It was just Jake and Amy, old-school-stylez, but it was _Jake_ _and Amy,_ romantic-stylez.

When they finally pulled away, breathing in quick to get air, her eyes glinted the way they only did when she  _finally_ solved a case, when she  _finally_ got some praise from Holt. They glinted with the word  _finally._

"Finally," she whispered, and for the life of him, Jake couldn't hold back his smile.

And maybe, just maybe, if he every saw Geoffrey Hoytzman again, he'd thank him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, there you go! Epilogue, anybody?

**Author's Note:**

> This, being my first fic on AO3, is definitely not my best. But I'll do better in the future, I promise. I love to write, so there'll be more for sure.  
> Also, if I got some quotes or info from the episode and the past ones mentioned, do let me know so I can change it to the correct dialogue or fact :)


End file.
